The Last Race
by Child of Mars
Summary: After the great race for the Piston Cup, Chick is less than happy about his new social standing, and decides to ensure his own supremacy on the race course from now on...in a winner-takes-all race against the fabulous Hudson Hornet. Rated K for violence.


**The Last Race**

"Well, I'd say that wasn't too bad of a race for a rookie," Doc Hudson remarked, looking straight ahead with bored, hooded eyes as he cruised leisurely between the race tents.

Beside him, Lightning was alive with the thrill of the racecourse, his engine constantly revving up as he would race forward a few feet, and then hold off until Doc Hudson caught up with him. At the comment, however, he wheeled around and gave the Doc an incredulous stare. "What? That wasn't too bad? Common, old man, it was fantastic!"

Doc Hudson smirked, "I've seen better."

Lightning rolled his eyes, half annoyed, half used to Doc Hudson's withering remarks. That car was never pleased, or else he always pretended he wasn't. The longer Lightning knew him, the more certain he was that it was the latter. Dismissively, he wheeled hard on his axles with a screeching sound, roaring in a full circle around Hudson.

Hudson winced as Lightning came to a full stop. He gave Lightning a critiquing doctor's look. "You'll wear your engine out like that."

Lightning snorted aloud. "Like you haven't, fabulous Hudson Hornet?"

Now it was Hudson's turn to role his eyes and grumble noncommittally. Lightning grinned at the sound. Suddenly, a spray of smoke hit him in the face. "Wha…arg! Hey, who the heck is that?"

A green car sped into his vision, the engine screaming in his ears. "Well, if it isn't the winner of the day…who didn't even win the race!"

Lightning stiffened angrily. "Chick. What do you want?"

Chick grinned, wriggling his eyebrows in a disturbing manner as he quickly drove behind them both, then shoved his way between Hudson and Lightning, as if he was one of their closest friends. "What do I want?" he smirked, "question is, what do you want, McQueen?"

Hudson moved right slightly, as if he didn't even want Chick's paint touching his. "I think he asked what _you_ want, Chick. Why don't you go ahead and answer him." The tone was commanding, not questioning.

Chick cast him an irritated glance. "Sure thing, pops," he snapped, then turned his attention back to Lightning, who was glaring at him as only an adolescent racecar can glare. "So, Lightning, guess you know the world is treating the winner of the Piston Cup like garbage."

"I wonder why," Hudson muttered sarcastically. Chick's engine spurted with sound a moment as he glared again at the older car before addressing Lightning once more. "Which is why I want a rematch."

All three cars slowed down, while both Lightning and Hudson stared at Chick, who was smiling ever so slightly. "A rematch? For the Piston?" Lightning asked, his tone incredulous and yet just a little bit hopeful.

"No!" Chick's greed flared into action, "but just a…you know, _replica_ of the race. I want a chance to beat you fair and square, in front of everybody."

"Ye mean you didn't beat him fair and square the first time?" Hudson smiled, a bitter, disgusted smile.

Chick wheeled on him, "Listen pops, you're getting on my nerves!"

"Oh dear. I'm shaking in my axles." Hudson said quietly, unimpressed. He pushed on, bumping slightly into Chick as he shoved by him. Lightning retrieved Chick's attention. "So, you want to repair your public image?" he said the words 'public image' mockingly. "What's in it for me?"

Chick paused, than narrowed his eyes, his mustache twitching ever so slightly. "I'll never race again, anytime, anywhere…at least, not for the Piston Cup. Same goes for you."

Hudson was immediately distrustful of that look, of that rash, rash promise to give up what Chick had longed for all his life, and only just recently achieved in a hollow sort of way. "No deal."

Lightning's frown was suddenly centered on Hudson. "Well gee, thanks Dad. I think I can make my own decisions here."

"Naw, course you can't. You need the fabulous Hudson Hornet here to take care of you. He's had loads of experience." Chick zoomed forward, did a sharp U-turn, and ended up face to face with Hudson, forcing the older racecar to halt. "I never read about you, Pops, but I did hear about your _big_ accident. Heard it was a humdinger…heard you got busted up so bad you could never race again…makes me wonder how you're still dragging your decrepit undercarriage around the place. Aren't you overdue for the scrap yard, Mr. _Fabulous_ _Failure_?"

Something dangerous ticked in Hudson's dials as he narrowed his eyes at Chick. It wasn't his usual sleepy, contented look, but the energetic, vigilant glance of a racer on the track.

Lightning was shocked by Chick's insults; he knew what Hudson had gone through, knew the dreams that had come crashing down around him. No one, least of all Chick, had a right to speak to him like that. Suddenly protective of his friend, Lightning darted forward angrily. "Hey, Chick, if you're going to open that big mouth of yours then…"

Doc Hudson's gravelly, low voice spoke right over him, his eyes never leaving Chick's. "Sometimes, I'm thankful I was pushed out. You know why?"

Chick held his breath, somehow held in thrall by this sudden, vibrant sign of life from the old racer.

"Cause I didn't have to meet any more racers like you," Hudson snarled. Then, with a sudden spurt of his engine, he drove right past the green car. Lightning hesitated, watching Hudson disappear in the distance. Then he wheeled on Chick. "You've got yourself a race!" he hissed angrily.

Chick shook off the sting of Hudson's remark and smirked at the red racecar. "See you at the starting line…if you make it that far!" With a howl of glee, he tore off, leaving Lightning coughing on a cloud of exhaust.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Lightning cruised a bit longer around the race grounds before returning to his truck, mainly because he didn't relish confronting Doc just yet. Knowing how big Chick's mouth was, Lightning wouldn't be surprised if the news of the race was all over the place by now.

When he finally did wheel into the Lightning Rusteze area, the sky was a dark, sleepy indigo, streaked with orange-tinted clouds from the setting sun. His tent with the Rusteze symbol on it glowed with a warm yellow light. He drove closer, invited by the idea of an evening of talking with his old friends from Radiator Springs, and those dirty, rusty, hilarious sponsors of his.

"Well, if it aint Lightning McQueen, the hot rod of the day."

Lightning wheeled around guiltily, his tires screeching. "Uh, Doc! Hi! Hi, yes, I was just going to…"

"I thought we'd agreed; no racing with Chick," Hudson cut him short, wheeling towards him out of the shadows like a predator homing in on a mouse.

Lightning frowned at his tone; he had been defending Doc, for goodness sake! "We didn't _agree_ on anything. You decided."

"It was the right decision. I didn't make it so you could go off and make the wrong one. Chick is gonna send you in as a pile of scrap metal tomorrow. You saw what happened to the King…you want that for you?"

"Why are you so sure I'm gonna get trashed?" Lightning shot back, bouncing impatiently on his wheels, "Why are you so sure I'm gonna lose? You said I had a lot of stuff! Or was that just words?"

Hudson's frown grew more terrible, if that was possible. "I meant it. But you also got a small brain in that engine of yours, connected by faulty wires that heat it up too quickly."

Lightning's engine rumbled. "Oh yeah? You and the King! He said I was stupid!"

"Maybe he was right!" Hudson snapped back, irritated by Lightning's continued resistance. He had never been a gentle car, and the only way he could think to fight fire was to retaliate with more fire.

The words hurt Lightning far more than they should have, as if they had come from someone whose opinion mattered very much to the hot rod. Pain and then fury flashed in the wide blue eyes. "I don't have to listen to this!" Lightning shouted, screeching into a sharp turn and gunning his engine as he raged off.

Hudson snarled at the retreating bumper, wishing he had a tow cable like Mater so he could grab the hot rod and haul him back for a good sized whipping. _Insolent, hotheaded boy…_

And as he watched the red car, he suddenly heard the mournful creaking of an old crane losing its grip, heard it scream, "I can't hold it! It's slipping! Watch out!"

And he saw a heavy crate come falling out of the sky, plummeting straight down towards Lightning's roof.

Hudson revved his engine and roared in warning, his gravelly voice echoing over the grounds. "Lightning!"

Lightning heard him and, with the swift instincts of a racecar, braked his engines hard and went into reverse, his eyes looking upwards in mute panic. But he wasn't quite fast enough. The crate fell onto his hood with a cracking, shattering sound as sparks flew, glass splintered, and the crane screamed in terrified guilt. Lightning's engine cut off without a sound, leaving the place in dead silence.

Hudson sprayed gravel from under his wheels as he sped up beside the unmoving hot rod. He stared anxiously into the battered face. "Kid? Lightning!" There was no sound. Frenzied, he rammed his bumper gently into Lightning's side.

There was a groan. Then a ticking noise, the first signs of life. Lightning's eyes fluttered open. But the blue orbs were cracked across the surface and his hood was dented, the red pain ripped in some places to reveal sharp, grey metal. "D…Doc?"

Hudson breathed a sigh of relief, letting his voice slip back into a calm grumble. "You alright, kid?"

Lightning squirmed slightly, the humming from his engine getting louder. "Uh…think so. My reactions are a bit funny and…I can't see." The last phrase was said in a tone of horrified wonder.

Hudson moved into action. "Your windshields are cracked. Easily repaired and replaced. I'm gonna push you to the mechanics shed." He wheeled around carefully, setting his bumper to Lightning's. Then, as if in afterthought, he growled, "Don't you dare try and move, or I'll make you sorry."

Lightning smiled wearily, repressing his groans as his tender axles rotated. Somehow, that small, possibly meaningful threat comforted him. It meant Doc was in charge.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Lightning swallowed nervously, unused to the cold feeling of wind brushing his undercarriage as he stood, suspended, on a pair of slats. Anxiously, he listened for the Doc's voice to say, "It's all clear down here…just surface damage."

When he did, the lift started to move back down to the ground. Lightning breathed in relief as solid ground thumped into his wheels. "So, its just my window and my paint job?"

"And a nice bump to your engine. You got lucky, kid." Hudson growled.

"How soon can I get fixed up?" Lightning wriggled his wheels slightly.

"Few hours with a full team working." Hudson said slowly, moving away some instruments.

"What?" Lightning shrieked, "what time is it now?"

"Early morning, Stickers. I'd say, eight o' clock." A new voice said, close to his ear.

He recognized it anywhere, and his instruments did a little flip flop. "Sally? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Radiator Springs!"

The blue Porsche smiled at the look of dumb delight on Lightning's face. "Well I was, until Flo and Ramone and Sarge and Fillmore went home to take care of Lizzie and Red. I drove all night to get here, and look what I find. A Sticker boy without his stickers."

Lightning smiled, leaning a little towards where he hoped she was. Doc's voice broke like a whiplash through the soft moment. "The race is at ten. You're not gonna make it."

"What?" Lightning screeched, "I can't stay…I'll never be able to race again!" His engine revved up painfully, but his thrashing wheels didn't take him an inch forward, somehow weighed down. He only stopped fighting, however, when he ran out of energy and slumped exhaustedly to the ground.

"Glad I thought of bracelets," Hudson muttered over him, checking the locks.

"You can't imprison me! I fixed your bloody road!" Lightning screeched a third time.

Sally nudged him none too gently. "This isn't about the road. It's about you, bolt head. You aren't going to race blind, and you know it."

"If I don't race now, I'll never race again!"

Hudson muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "rookies…" before turning to Sally. "Sally, you go outside with the Sheriff and Mater. I've got to do something with the patient."

"Whatever you say, Doc. Stay cool, Stickers." Sally called over her shoulder. Lightning heard her engine sound die away with a sinking feeling. Her presence was so much more…gentle and reassuring than Doc's.

"Son, I'm sorry."

Lightning's entire face changed proportions in wide eyed, open mouthed surprise. "Wha…you're…_apologizing_!"

Hudson chuckled mirthlessly. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah…I mean no! But I don't…"

"Listen," Hudson interrupted him, "I may have been right…in fact, I'm pretty dang sure I _am_ right. But I should have explained a lot better, and let you make the choice for yourself. You ain't my son. You're a racecar with a mind of your own and a life to live. I had no right to try and bully you into doing things my way."

Lightning shifted uneasily, both embarrassed and touched by the older car's words. "Yeah, well…I shoulda listened to you, Doc. Chick's a cheat and can't be trusted. And I went and jeopardized my career on account of…well, what he said to you. I guess I am stupid." The sudden weight of what he was about to lose that morning hit him like a wall of bricks, and he sighed, sinking dejectedly.

He couldn't see the sudden glow in Doc's eyes at the words, _and I went and jeopardized my career on account of…well, what he said to you. _"No, rookie, you aint stupid." He wheeled towards the doors, "just fool headed."

Lightning smiled at the friendly insult. "Hey Doc, where'ya going?"

"To fix Chick for good," the snarled reply startled him. Knowing how much Hudson hated the green car, Lightning started forward, only to be halted by the bracelets on his wheels. "Hey, Doc…it's my mistake and I'll take the heat. Don't do anything stupid Doc…Doc?"

"I won't. Guido and Luigi will start work on your window. Anything else can wait till I get back."

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Sally came in some time later, edging past Guido and Luigi as the two screamed at each other in Italian. She had to raise her voice to be heard, trying not to look at the empty socket where Lightning's window had been. "Hey, Lightning…how're things holding up?"

"Have you seen Doc?" Lightning jumped right into the question that had been worrying him for the past two hours, especially now, when he knew that Chick was claiming forfeit, since Lightning wasn't at the starting line.

"No, I haven't. You?" She asked jokingly.

"Very funny." Lightning grumbled, listening to the familiar hum of her engine.

Suddenly, there was a terrifying sound of clanking, clattering metal and screeching tires, followed by an inhuman scream and a crash that shook the room. Lightning rolled his eyes, or at least, did the eyeless equivalent of that. "Hi, Mater."

"Bud! Miss Sally! Wouldcha believe it? Cause I wouldn't! Doc's racin'!"

"WHAT?" Sally and Lightning shouted at the same time.

"Hehe…you should see the looks on yore faces…its funny."

"What do you mean he's racing?" Lightning cried, revving forward.

"Well, he's sittin' at the startin' line with this green fella, and everyone's all watching." Mater paused to squint at the green light of the readout screen. "Hehe…funny lookin' cartoons they got now."

Lightning was starting to panic. "Lemme off! Right now! Sally, you gotta take the bracelets off…I gotta stop this!"

Sally spoke quickly and firmly, with a calming sort of authority. "You're blind and until that's fixed, you're not going anywhere. Mater and I are going to the race. If we get there in time, we'll stop him. I'll keep in touch by radio. Common, Mater!"

Lightning heard the screech of their tires as they raced out of the garage. Luigi and Guicho were dead silent a moment, then renewed their Italian tirade. Lightning impatiently interrupted them. "You guys stop squabbling and fix my window! Doc is gonna be in trouble…common, move it!"

As the two Italians entered a sudden, strangely intense battle rhythm of repair, Lightning fretted in the darkness of his lost sight, "Doc!" he spat angrily, stomping a tire on the ground, "I _told_ you not to do anything stupid!"

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Chick couldn't believe his good luck. Lightning was out of the race, and this outdated museum piece from who knew how many decades ago had offered to fill in! He sidled over to Hudson, where the dark blue hornet with his original racing colors from the 1950's was sitting quietly in front of the line, lost in his own thoughts. "Glad you're here, old man…somebody needs to keep the starting line warm!"

Hudson didn't seem to hear him. His thoughts were far, far back.

_Racing…huh, never thought I'd use that word again. Never thought I'd **be **here again. Here, on the asphalt, with all these people…_

His blue, sleepy eyes passed slowly over the crowd, watching them sway and grin and cheer in a beautiful slow motion, so just like that crowd of 50 years ago. Different, and yet the same.

_And there's the track in front of me, long smooth, curving…it's waiting for me, just waiting for my tires to fly over it. How long has it been now? Seems forever._

"I hope your boy, McQueen, thanks you for this…if you're still here to thank!"

Hudson ignored the twerp, instead breathing in the familiar smell of heat, rubber, and smoke. Not long now. If he won, Lightning could still race. If he lost…well, it wouldn't be any different. His axles twitched, enjoying the feel of racing tires. They weren't his, but they felt good.

_Racing…hate the people who run it, the cheaters and worms who ruin it…but it's never left me, even when I hid from it. It's in my engine, under my hood. I dreamed about this when I was small. Dreamed about it when I got old._

"And there goes the flag…" the voice crackled over the loudspeakers, electrifying Hudson's engine like nothing else could. He grit his teeth and, with a determine jolt, listened as his engine roared to life, shaking his entire carriage as a breathless anticipation hit the crowd. The same racket and puttering sound that had always caught the racing world in awed attention as the Fabulous Hudson Hornet set out to win yet another race.

_Heck, guess I never stopped dreaming._

The flag started to drop…

Lower…

Lower…

And it was down. Hudson spurted forward, and he was flying. Taking the curves, burning over the asphalt, cutting through the air as if he had never left. Chick was a newer, higher tech model, but he still couldn't cut it as a racer.

You needed heart for that.

And, Hudson concluded, as Chick veered hard to the left and bumped him insultingly in the face, Chick didn't have any.

"Hey, grandpa, get a good look at my bumper!" Chick sneered, weaving from side to side arrogantly, sure of himself, confident he could beat some rebuilt racecar more than half a century old.

Well, let him keep that confidence. Hudson decided he would settle for the tried and true method of holding back what you had until the last moment, then winning the day with the element of surprise.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Chick dropped back beside Hudson, leering at him. Hudson prickled defensively, knowing that look, remembering it…

_He's going to win his fourth Piston Cup! Only one lap to go, everyone's far behind except for that mean looking yellow racer. He's got it made._

_But then the racer bumps him from behind, hitting him in just the right way. "Eat dirt, Hornet!"_

_All that power and speed turns against him, spinning his body around helplessly until other cars begin smashing into him, batting him this way and that like a tennis ball, until he finally flips over and crashes into the turf in a wave of pain and disappointment._

Instinctively, Hudson dropped back. He almost didn't make it, however, since Chick clipped his headlight and tore a gash along the blue paint. With a hiss of pain, Hudson glared at Chick with dangerous eyes. He never did bear well with attitude, especially not from youngsters. "You missed, rookie."

"Oh yeah? Take this!" Chick swiveled wildly, smashing into Hudson's side and denting the metal inwards. Hudson's tired screeched as he fought to keep control, gritting his teeth against the pain. He had never seen a racecar quite this aggressive. It was as dangerous to the attacker as the victim.

"Doc! You alright?" The voice crackled over his radio, a welcome sound.

"Fine and dandy, Sheriff. He just clipped me, s'all." Hudson hid the raw feeling in his voice.

The Sheriff's low growl was full of worry and support. "I'm not gonna bother tellin' ya what I'm gonna do to ya if you get out of this…just do your stuff. I've borrowed Dinoco's team here, and if you need us, just pull in."

"Will do." Hudson noticed Chick glaring at him with hatred. Suddenly, he wondered what exactly was Chick's problem with him. Why was he risking his own neck just to get a few good bashes into him? It didn't make sense.

The dizzying, comfortable feeling of pavement spinning beneath his tires brought his mind back to the race. He couldn't see Chick by his side anymore. Using his side view mirrors, he looked back and saw him…ramming towards his rear.

Gunning his engine, Hudson shot forward, escaping the blow by inches. Chick was fast up behind him, however. "Ready to flip again, old man?"

_No…not flipped…the smoke, the screams, the fire…the pain…_

_I'm not gonna run. I won't run. I'm gonna stay and fight this junkyard pile. But I've gotta be careful._ _The kid needs me to win. I stopped racing, I know how hard it is. And Lightning doesn't even want to stop! Can't let him down…not after what he's done for me._

He sped forward with such speed that even Chick was surprised. It took him a few seconds to collect himself but when he did, he roared up behind him, his engine whining with high-pitched fury. "Got a few secrets, pops?"

Hudson didn't answer, instead gritting his teeth and letting the power flow from his still strong engine, letting it turn his wheels and speed him, fly him over the asphalt. The entire world circled around him in a swirl of color.

"Speed ain't gonna save you, grandpa! _Rrraa_!"

At the last exclamation, Chick threw himself forward with surprising strength and crashed his bumper into Hudson's. The blue eyes widened in terrified de-ja-vu as his entire body flipped, helpless, wheels still spinning uselessly through empty air.

He came down hood first on the pavement, then bounced up again. Sky below, earth above, the sun in his eyes, the ground coming up to meet him…

_No…no!_

And then, as if by a miracle, he halted. Something seemed to drag hold of him. He felt clipped blades of grass flying against his body as his entire frame gave an almighty jolt, than dropped heavily to the ground.

Something metallic came off his undercarriage with a crack, and for a panicked moment, he thought he had lost something. But no, everything was in place. He wheeled around.

Mater was sucking back up his tractor cable, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. The Sheriff and Sally were waving, even though Sally had a scared look on her face, as if she hadn't been breathing for the past few minutes.

Which was entirely possible, since Hudson hadn't either.

Ignoring the agony wrenching its way through his systems, Hudson smiled at his friends, not pausing to say 'thank you' as he tore back onto the track. The small crowd grew wild with relief, seeing that the legendary hero had not quite met the same fate as the King.

Chick was more than a lap ahead.

A new voice crackled over the speakers. "Doc, you just scared the life out of me."

Hudson swiveled slightly with surprise, "Lightning? What are you…"

"Don't worry, I'm still chained to my hospital bed," Lightning interrupted him with a growl worthy of Hudson's own, "Sally promised to keep me posted, and I can see the TV now. Remember what you told me? You never got a chance to show them, even though there was…_is_ a lot left in you. Well I'm telling you now, Doc, this isn't the time for strategies or brains. Don't waste it on Chick. Its your time to _show_ them."

Hudson couldn't stop the swelling pride and gratitude for the boy's words. However, he tried to mask it with an acidic answer, "this from the hot rod who can't turn on dirt to the veteran Piston Cup winner?"

"Shuttup and take that lap back."

Doc grinned, than gunned his engine forward, speeding even faster than he had sped in the desert. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as, with the sensation of a rocket, he ate up the miles and came roaring up behind Chick.

_There's a lot left in me._

Chick noticed him coming and, with a cry of rage, tried to hit him again. He had completely lost it, willing to kill Hudson if only to get Lightning out of racing forever. Hudson knew this, knew Chick had no respect for him, and no mercy for Lightning.

_And this is when I'm going to show them._

With a rumbling roar, he weaved away from Chick's raging blow, sped past him and turned the curve in a drift fashion, eating up the miles faster than most racecars of his day could have.

"And we're on the final lap!" The announcer's voice called.

And there it was; the line, the flag, the finish. Hudson had never felt so…_free_ before. The little pains in his engine and body were nothing compared to this. He was being cheered, he was winning, and most importantly, he was _racing_. Sun glinted off his hood and the Hornet symbol and the chipped up, dented surface of his body as he zoomed towards the goal, unable to help smiling at Chick's violent cursing not far behind him. _Bet ye didn't expect this, did ye…city boy._

As if to punish him for his thoughts, fate struck in the moment of glory.

His rear tire blew. Just like the Kid's. Except this time, there was no way of getting back to the pit stop. He dug his wheels in violently, straining to somehow stop the wild swerving as the speed barreled him forward on unsteady axles.

_No! Not now, not when I'm so close!_

He glanced back in his mirror; Chick's face had been transformed to utter, radiant joy. Galvanized by the possible success that he had just begun to give up on, he rocketed his way forward, almost heedless of the burning sparks from Hudson's bare metal rims as they scraped against the pavement.

Sixteen feet…fifteen…

Hudson's eyes narrowed.

Fourteen…thirteen…

_I'm gonna show them._

Twelve…

At the exact instant that Chick began to pass him, Hudson purposely wheeled his entire, unwieldy body right into Chick's path. With a resounding crash of bending metal and screaming sparks, Chick accidentally did a direct hit that left his nose crumpled and sent Hudson flying across the finish line.

He bounced against the wall and, twirling like a top, hit a pile of plastic barrels that finally stopped him as they rolled over him with hollow, jarring thumps.

And, to Hudson's chagrin, he realized he was whooping like a one-year rookie who had just won his first county race. Helpful pit stop personnel from Dinoco quickly began clearing the barrels off and prodding curiously at his damaged frame. He barked sharply, and they raced off like startled mice.

Suddenly, a non-too gentle bumper connected with his, pushing him out on unsteady wheels that creaked with piercing sounds of discontent. Relieved not to have to use his aching engine, Hudson nevertheless managed to cry out, "hey! What are you…?"

"If you move," the Sheriff growled dangerously behind him, "I'm going to _kill_ you."

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"I said don't do something stupid, and what do you do? Do something stupid!"

"Racing aint stupid, rookie," Hudson muttered, keeping his once again hooded gaze centered on the ground as another mechanic checked over him, wincing as the insensitive minivan poked a tool harder than he should have. Hudson had forgotten how nerve wracking a repair was, since his big crash of 53 had kept him out cold in a black fog of pain for most of the time.

"It is when you're going up against a psychotic murderer for no real reason!" Lightning protested. When they had pushed Hudson in, nearly senseless, Lightning had torn forward, pulling the bracelets a few inches before he gave up, torn between worry and fury.

"I had a reason, kid," Hudson growled back, "And anyway, you can keep on racing. Chick's banned from it. There were enough folks in those bleachers today to see him attack me more than twenty times. Lowlifes like that always crack after a while, get desperate when they can't get the happiness they're aiming for."

"Yeah, well," Lightning flopped deeper into the slats, a slow smirk crawling up his face as a drill whirred aloud and Hudson gave a yelp, "at least I get to see you under the knife for once."

Hudson glared at him, "you're gonna regret that when we're back at Radiator Springs, hot rod."

Lightning looked surprised, "how'd you know I was coming back?"

"Because you think a lot like someone else I used to know." _Me, actually. When I was younger…_he gave a good look as Lightning blew a kiss at Sally…_a lot younger._

"I didn't know racecars _could_ think." Sheriff muttered angrily, pacing at the doors as if he thought the two would try to escape.

"Me neither, Sheriff," Sally glared at them both, "shall I get bracelets for Doc?"

Hudson's wheels twitched. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary, Sally. I used up my all my high strung spirits today."

Lightning suddenly straightened, "Yeah! I know I'll see it on TV later, but I wanna hear it from you. Heard you did some pretty amazing stuff out there, and everyone's talking about the way you won the race! Better than my tongue tie." He grimaced at the memory, than gushed on, "tell me all about it! Common! What did you do?"

"Do?" And for the first time that day, Hudson gave Lightning a real, full-blown smile. "I showed em, thanks to you, kid. Thanks to you, I put the name of 'Hudson Hornet' back in the great ranks of racers. And you can keep on racing. That's worth more to me than a dozen Piston Cups."

Lightning's gaze softened as he looked at the old car, and realized just how close they had become. From enemy to hero to teacher to mentor to father figure, the grumpy old, incredibly brave Hornet with wheels of steel and a heart of gold had become the closest thing to a father that Lightning had ever had, and he knew it. Slowly, letting the bracelet clank loudly, he inched forward, than gave Hudson a friendly bump on the side. "Thanks, Doc."

And Hudson grinned back at the hot rod who had made him realize that, whether you're a selfish young hot rod more full of himself than gas, or a bitter old veteran with a grudge against the world, anyone can change. Anyone. "You're welcome, kid."

FINIS


End file.
